


The Wanting

by BeckyHarvey29



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Jealous Ian Gallagher, Jealous Mickey Milkovich, Love, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Smut with a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:44:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3456122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckyHarvey29/pseuds/BeckyHarvey29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian wants Mickey. Mickey isn't interested. Ian plans on changing that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not My Type

Ian arched his back seductively as he gyrated to the bass of the song, loving all the eyes on him as he rolled his body skillfully. 

He loved being the center of attention. He loved watching strangers eye his taut, hard body, a body he had worked so hard for. He loved the lust in a man's eye as they reached forward and shoved money down his tight, barely-there shorts, so close to his cock. He loved providing the very material for the fantasies these guys would have later in the night when they were at home stroking their dicks. 

He was easily the most popular dancer there. He was sought out on the regular, and he had earned himself center stage on most nights. 

Most guys went crazy for the hot, redheaded twink, and it was definitely heaven on his bank account. 

To put it mildly, he wasn't used to being turned down, wasn't used to not being wanted. 

His eyes landed once again on the brunet at the corner of the bar. The guy had been coming into the Fairy Tail for the past few weeks now. He was sexy as fuck; he had dark hair, piercing blue eyes, rough around the edges. Exactly Ian's type.

Only problem was, the guy didn't seem to give Ian the time of day, and it was driving Ian insane. 

He watched as the brunet sipped his drink, his eyes focused on Ethan, the blond dancer on the next stage over.

Ian ignored the bubble of jealousy in the pit of his stomach and forced himself to look away, focused on his dancing. There were a few dozen guys surrounding him, unable to take their eyes off of him—no doubt wanting to fuck him—but he couldn't help trying to get the attention of someone else. 

After a few songs, Ian decided it was time to take a break, and he hopped off the stage, allowing a few passing gropes from his admirers as he went. He walked up to the bar, right next to his mystery man, and leaned in to give the bartender his usual drink order. He then turned his head and eyed the brunet, whose eyes were still focused on Ethan.

Ian rolled his own eyes with an exaggerated sigh and turned around, pressing his back against the bar and leaning back on his elbows, giving the mystery guy an awesome view of his toned chest. "Ethan's a good dancer," he began, talking loud enough so that the other man could hear him over the music, "but I hear he's a lousy fuck."

"He's actually great in the sack," his crush said casually with an arch of his eyebrows as he took another sip of his drink.

Ian took the opportunity to get a closer look at him. He was even sexier up close. He trailed his eyes over the guy's body, noticing the tattoos on his hands, and he wanted the man even more. Ian wanted to feel those calloused, tattooed fingers on every inch of his body; in his mouth, up his ass, stroking his cock.

The man threw him a sideways glance. "Something I can help you with?"

Ian leaned in closer to him. "Since Ethan is busy, I can take care of you," he said in his best seductive voice that normally worked like a charm on other guys. "Twenty-five will get you a dance, fifty will get you a private show in one of our private rooms." 

"No, thanks," the man said coolly. "I'm good."

Ian frowned and then quickly recovered, not one to give up so easily. "Name's Curtis," he said, pressing even closer.

"I didn't ask for your name."

"Well, you might be screaming it later."

"Don't think so."

Ian tightened his jaw. The fact that this guy wasn't taking the bait made Ian want him even more. "Don't like what you see?"

The man finally looked at him fully, his eyes slowly taking Ian in. Finally, he said curtly, "not my type."

"Not into redheads, huh?" Ian said flatly. 

"Not really." 

Just as Ian was about to open his mouth to object, not ready to give up just yet, Ethan chose that exact moment to interrupt.

"There's my favorite customer," Ethan purred, throwing Ian a perturbed look as he took the guy's hand. "Private dance?"

Ian's crush downed the rest of his drink and placed his glass on the bar before allowing Ethan to lead him away. "See ya, Curtis," he said with a smirk over his shoulder. 

Ian watched after him in disbelief. Still, he wasn't about to give up. He always got what he wanted.

~~~

Two nights later, Ian was dripping with sweat as he danced. It was a busy night and the crowd was rowdy. He took it all in, loving the attention as usual. He was already nearing five hundred dollars for the night, and he was only four hours into his shift.

Sure enough, his mystery man was there tonight. Once again, his attention was focused solely on Ethan. _Fucking Ethan_. 

Ian rolled his eyes but went back to his dancing, intent on pleasing the guys who actually wanted him.

A little while later, he hopped off the stage and made his way over to his crush. After ordering his drink, he leaned into him. "Can I at least get your name?"

The other man smirked at him over the rim of his glass. "You don't fucking give up, do you?" 

"Not when it's something I really want," Ian said, his eyes dropping to the other man's lips. 

Finally, he said, "Name's Scott." 

"Scott," Ian said, trying the name out on his tongue. "You don't look like a Scott."

"Yeah, well, you don't look like a Curtis," Scott said flatly.

Ian leaned into him enough so that his bare chest rubbed against the other man's forearm. "I'll be whoever you want me to be." 

The brunet stared back, unyielding. "Maybe I'll just call you Ian."

Ian recoiled. "What?"

The man laughed into his glass, his eyebrows arching. 

"How do you know my fuckin' name?" 

"Not so confident now, are we?"

"Fuck you," Ian snapped and turned to walk away. He then stopped abruptly and spun back around. "How the fuck do you know my name?" he asked again, moving closer.

"Chill, red," the brunet said. "I know who you are. We grew up in the same fuckin’ neighborhood, for fuck's sake."

Ian narrowed his eyes at him. Sure, something about the guy seemed familiar, but he definitely would have remembered him. "Who the fuck are you?" 

Just then, fucking Ethan came sauntering over. 

"Ready for me, Mickey?" 

The brunet tensed visibly and sent Ethan a hard look for giving up his real name. 

Ian watched as the enigma of a man stood up and followed Ethan towards the private rooms. He was intent on finding out just who this fucking guy was…and then he planned on fucking his brains out.

~~~

It had been nearly a week before Ian saw his crush again. He finished his dance and made his way to the bar. "Hey, Mickey."

Mickey turned his head, throwing Ian a look of utter distaste. "Don't you know how to take a fucking hint?"

"I figured out who you are."

"Good for you. You want a fucking cookie?"

"Never would've thought I'd find a Milkovich at the Fairy Tail."

"Yeah, well, mention it to anyone and I'll kick your fucking ass." 

Ian smirked, undeterred, and leaned against the bar. "Ethan isn't here tonight."

"S’alright. I'm sure I can find someone else to suck my dick." 

Ian leaned in a little closer, catching a whiff of Mickey's cologne. He smelled fucking incredible. "I'll suck your dick," he said, his voice raspy. He searched Mickey's face for a reaction but got none. "Make you forget all about Ethan."

"Told you, not interested." 

"Why the fuck not?" Ian exclaimed, since Mickey was driving him absolutely fucking insane. "Y’mind telling me what the fuck's so wrong with me?"

"Told you, not into redheads."

"Then I'll turn out the fucking lights," Ian said flatly. 

"I'm sure you can get one of these geriatric fags to let you suck their dicks," Mickey said as his eyes surveyed the crowd. 

"Well, I don't want to suck their dicks," Ian said, leaning in even closer. "I want your dick."

Mickey motioned to the bartender for another drink. 

Ian eyed him, running out of the confidence that usually came so easily to him. It was driving him nuts that Mickey didn't want him. He just didn't get it. He decided to try a different approach. He was going to make it impossible for Mickey to ignore him.

"Fine," he said stiffly. "I know when I'm not wanted. It's your fuckin’ loss. I would've rocked your world." He pushed away from the bar and walked into the crowd, searching for a pawn to speed his game up. He settled on an average-looking guy who looked thrilled to be the current center of Ian's attention.

He turned and backed his ass up against the guy's crotch as he gripped the man's tie over his shoulder. He grinded and chewed on his lower lip and pretended to be getting into it. He looked up to find that Mickey had turned in his seat and wasn't even paying him any attention. He immediately stopped dancing, his ego shot to hell.

"Why'd you stop," the stranger asked hotly in his ear, his hand reaching around to grab Ian's cock through his small shorts. 

"Hey, no fucking touching," Ian spat before walking away from the man, grumbling under his breath as he did so.

~~~

Three nights later, Ian found Ethan alone in the employee locker room. He thought about it for only a few seconds before walking up to the blond twink. "Hey."

Ethan looked up in disinterest as he rubbed himself down with glittered lotion. "Hey."

Ian studied the other man. He wasn't blind, the guy was hot…if you liked too skinny, elfish-looking blond twinks. He honestly didn't know what Mickey saw in him. Ian didn't want to seem conceited, but he was a lot fucking hotter than this dude. 

"So, uh, that Mickey guy…he a regular customer of yours?" he asked nonchalantly. 

Ethan shrugged. "I guess. I see him a couple nights a week. He always pays for one of the private rooms. Doesn't like to be out in the open. I usually just give him head, and he sends me on my way. Doesn't say much."

Ian ran a hand through his hair, knowing he was probably stepping over some sort of line here. "Next time he comes in, I want him." 

Ethan snorted. "Don't you think that's his choice to make?" 

"Of course it is," Ian said with a shrug. "All I'll need for you to do is get him in the room and put a blindfold on him. I'll go in and do the rest."

"I don't know, man. He's a good tipper and I could really use the money."

"I don't care about that, I just want him. I'll give you the tip after I give _him_ the tip," he finished with an amused smirk, quite proud of his pun. 

Ethan shrugged. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

Ian smiled softly to himself. He was going to make it hard on Mickey to turn him down.

~~~

Ian was in luck, Mickey was there that night.

He made his way to the bar and leaned in to order his usual apple martini. He then turned his eyes to Mickey and licked his lips. "Are you warming up to me yet?"

"Not gonna happen, gingerbread," Mickey said, his eyebrows arching.

"You don't know what you're missing."

"Pretty sure I don't want to know." 

Their repartee was less catty now, more playful, and he could tell Mickey wasn't as disgusted as he had initially pretended to be. 

Ian moved closer without warning until he was pressed between Mickey's legs, pressing Mickey back against the bar. They stared each other down, their faces inches apart. 

Mickey looked unimpressed even though his adam's apple bobbed quickly. 

"You won't even give me a chance?" he asked, leaning in close to whisper in Mickey's ear, his hands gripping the edge of the bar, caging Mickey in. 

"Just give up, man. You're not even that hot."

"Bullshit," Ian said, pulling back to stare into Mickey's eyes. "There has to be another reason."

Mickey bit his lower lip and shot his eyebrows upwards, shaking his head. 

Ian searched his face before groaning and pushing himself away from Mickey. 

Just then, fucking Ethan came walking over. "Ready for me?" 

Mickey stood up and grabbed Ethan by the back of the head, pulling him in for a searing, tongue-tangling kiss.

Ian seethed with jealousy as he watched the two men kiss in front of him. 

Finally, they pulled apart. 

"See ya, red," Mickey said breathlessly, shooting Ian an intense look as he followed the blond dancer towards the private rooms. 

Ian stewed in his jealousy and waited a fair amount of time before following after the pair, hoping Ethan was still willing to go through with it. He stopped outside the door and shuffled nervously. 

The door suddenly opened and then Ethan slipped out, waving his hand frantically, signaling Ian to slip inside. "You owe me big time for this," Ethan whispered as Ian passed him. 

Ian shot Ethan a grin and smacked him playfully on the ass before entering the small private room and closing the door behind him. 

"The fuck's going on? Can we get this show on the road? I ain't got all fuckin’ night." 

Ian leaned back against the door and stared at Mickey sitting on the small red velvet sofa, a blindfold covering his eyes. He pushed himself away from the door and walked over to Mickey. 

"Why the fuck am I wearing a blindfold right now, anyway?" Mickey asked, unaware of Ian's presence. 

Ian slowly dropped to his knees in front of Mickey and bravely ran his hands up Mickey's thighs, stopping his hands right before reaching his cock. 

He watched as Mickey visibly swallowed. He smiled as he then ran his palm over the bulge that was trapped in Mickey's jeans. He unbuttoned Mickey's button and then unzipped him, reaching in and grabbing Mickey's cock. 

He stroked Mickey's cock a few times before he leaned in and touched his tongue to the drop of precome on the tip, moaning at the taste.

"Fuck," Mickey moaned, leaning his head back.

Ian sucked and slurped at the head of Mickey's cock a little before pulling back. "Mm, you taste even better than I thought you would."

Mickey stiffened and then quickly tore the blindfold off, glaring down at Ian. "What the fuck are you doing?!" 

"About to give you the best blowjob of your fucking life, relax," Ian said haughtily. He was then taken off guard when Mickey shot to his feet, grabbing Ian by the throat as he did so and dragging him up from his knees. In one fluid motion, he slammed Ian back against the wall and pressed into him. 

Mickey glared at Ian, clearly furious about being tricked. His face was beet red and his chest heaved, his hand still wrapped around Ian's throat. 

Ian slowly reached up and wrapped his hand around Mickey's wrist and removed Mickey's hand from his throat. He then smirked when he saw Mickey begin to soften around the edges, and he took the opportunity to drop down to his knees.

Mickey stared down at Ian, still stewing with anger but also incredibly fucking horny, and fuck if Ian didn't look beautiful down on his fucking knees like that, his hard cock pressing against Ian's chin. 

Ian kept his eyes locked on Mickey's as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of Mickey's jeans and tugged them down and over his hips. He opened wide and took Mickey's cock in his mouth, never once breaking eye contact. 

"Fuck," Mickey sputtered as Ian took him completely in, swallowing as he deep-throated. He grabbed a hold of the guy's stupid fucking red hair with both hands and guided him. 

Ian reached around and grabbed handfuls of Mickey's ass as he let the other man fuck his mouth, taking everything Mickey was giving him. 

Mickey licked his lips and tossed his head back as he continued thrusting in and out of that tight, hot little mouth, loving the way Ian was taking him all in. "Such a good fucking mouth," he moaned. 

Ian smiled around Mickey's cock before reaching up to wrap a hand around the base. He picked up his pace and pumped his hand, wanting Mickey to come for him. He reached down and palmed his own cock through his tiny shorts. 

Mickey stared down at Ian through hooded eyes and watched as he touched himself. "Yeah, touch that cock," he groaned. 

Ian moaned around Mickey as he continued sucking, his chin wet and sticky with saliva, but he didn't care much. All he cared about was getting Mickey off. He licked slowly from base to tip, making sure to keep eye contact with Mickey the whole time, before engulfing his dick once more.

Mickey tugged hard on Ian's hair and then finally shuddered as his orgasm rolled through him. He emptied his hot load down Ian's throat and continued to fuck Ian's mouth until he was spent. 

Ian sat back on his heels and stared up at Mickey with a cocky smirk as he wiped at the corner of his mouth. He was caught by surprise when Mickey suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

"Get up," Mickey rasped. He then pushed Ian roughly against the wall, holding him against it with a forearm to his chest. "Do anything like that again," he grumbled, running his hand down Ian's bare chest, down his chiseled abdomen, and ending at his hard cock that was straining against his tight little shorts. "I'll rip this cock off and shove it down your throat."

Ian moaned and bit his lip as Mickey stroked him through his shorts. 

Mickey leaned in closer, his warm breath caressing Ian's face. "You got it?" he said huskily as he reached into Ian's shorts and pulled his dick out. 

"Christ," Ian groaned as he reached up to grip Mickey's shoulders. 

"You do have a nice fucking cock," Mickey muttered as he looked down between them to watch his own hand work on Ian. "I'll give you that much."

Ian whimpered when Mickey's thumb rounded over the tip of his sensitive dick. 

"Feel good?" Mickey asked, his voice hoarse next to Ian's ear. 

"So fucking good," Ian sputtered, already nearing the edge. 

"You gonna come for me?"

"Fuck yeah, so close," Ian choked.

"Good," Mickey said before abruptly removing his hand, causing Ian to whimper in protest.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Teaching you a fucking lesson," Mickey said before walking over to grab his coat and throwing some bills on the sofa. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"No one gets one over on me," Mickey said as he slipped his coat on. He then threw Ian a smirk before exiting the room.

Ian stood slumped against the wall, still panting and heaving, his cock still hard and dripping. He ran a hand down his sweaty face and groaned, knowing he was going to have to take care of himself before going back out there and returning to his job.

Fucking Mickey Milkovich.

~

The next night, Mickey walked into the Fairy Tail and looked around.

Tim, the bartender, walked over to him. "Want your usual drink?"

"Not right now, man," Mickey said as his eyes skimmed over the crowd. "Looking for someone."

"You looking for Ethan?" Tim asked. "He's right over there."

Mickey barely heard him, though; he had already spotted Ian through the crowd. "Going with something a little different tonight," he said more to himself than to Tim. He pushed his way through the crowd and stopped next to where Ian was. 

Ian looked up from the conversation he had been having with one of the bouncers, his surprise evident on his face. "Mickey?" 

"Looking for a private dance," Mickey said, reaching up and rubbing his thumb over his lower lip as he eyed Ian up in his fucking ridiculous gold shorts. 

Ian smirked back at him before nodding. He grabbed Mickey's hand and turned around, draping Mickey's arm over his shoulder as he led them back towards the private rooms. 

Neither one of them noticed Ethan watching after them, shaking his head with a dramatic roll of his eyes. 

Looks like he had lost another one to Ian fucking Gallagher.


	2. The Fuck Do I Care?

"Fuck yeah, right there," Mickey choked out as Ian reamed him from behind, tugging his hair roughly, but Mickey liked it like that. "Right fucking there, don't stop."

"You like it when I pound your ass?" Ian gasped as he dug his free hand into Mickey's hip, leaving marks. "You love my cock, don't you?"

"I fucking love your cock," Mickey spat as he braced himself against the small velvet couch, taking everything Ian was giving him.

Ian yanked Mickey's head back harder and let out a growl as he came. 

Mickey followed a few thrusts later, his warm come spilling out into Ian's hand. He rode Ian's fist until he was spent, and then he fell back on the couch in a sweaty, panting mess. 

Ian fell onto the couch beside Mickey and ran a hand over his sweaty face, trying to get his body back under control. He reached over and grabbed a Kleenex from the small side table, wiping his hand and discarding the condom into it. 

"That was fucking amazing, holy fuck," Mickey grumbled, his eyes still closed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

Ian smiled softly before leaning over and placing a kiss on Mickey's cheek since they didn't do the whole kissing-on-the-mouth thing. "I aim to please. It's my job, right."

Mickey finally opened his eyes when Ian stood up to retrieve his shorts from the floor, Ian's words resonating miserably in his head.

This thing with Ian had been going on for the past three months now. What had started off as blowjobs and dry humping two to three times a week, had soon escalated into Mickey coming to the club five to six nights a week to see Ian. The actual full on fucking had started two weeks in, and Mickey was addicted. 

Even in his regular day-to-day life, he found himself constantly thinking about the guy, which he knew was a big fucking mistake because, as Ian had so blatantly pointed out, he was just doing his job. Mickey was nothing to Ian but a piece of ass; he was nothing but money in Ian's pocket.

As always, Mickey pushed his thoughts to the very back of his mind, telling himself that all this thing was, was just a quick fuck. He had gotten off, he would pay Ian his earnings, and then he would go back to his lonely one bedroom apartment and go on about his life. 

That's just the way it was going to be. 

Mickey Milkovich refused to acknowledge that he was actually starting to have feelings for Ian. 

"So, how much I owe ya?" Mickey asked monotonously as he tugged his pants up.

"Hundred," Ian said as he studied his reflection in the small mirror on the wall, making sure he looked no worse for wear before going back out onstage.

Mickey swallowed the thick lump in his throat as he pulled out his wallet. He reluctantly handed Ian the wad of cash, including tip. 

Ian took it, giving him a small hesitant smile. "I, uh, better head back out there. I've been gone long enough."

"Yeah, okay," Mickey said sullenly as he watched Ian slip out the door.

~

Two nights later, Mickey walked into the club and scanned the crowd, looking for his redhead. He finally spotted him in the mass of sweaty bodies, grinding with some fucking douchebag and Mickey didn't like it one bit, but he knew it wasn't his place to say anything, wasn't his place to care.

The guy had as much claim on Ian as he did. 

He walked over to the bar and ordered his usual drink, before swiveling in his stool to watch as Ian danced on someone else. 

He downed his drink in one gulp before miserably asking for another. 

"Hey, stranger."

Mickey's attention averted from Ian to find Ethan standing beside him. "Hey," he said casually. 

"I see Ian's found himself a nice little piece."

"Yeah. What the fuck ever," Mickey said, trying to act as nonchalant about it as possible. "The fuck do I care?"

Ethan smiled and leaned into Mickey. "What do you say we head towards the back, for old time's sake, since Ian seems to be preoccupied?"

"No, thanks," Mickey said without any hesitation, downing his second shot. He looked back over in Ian's direction, watched as he grinded his ass against the stranger's crotch. Mickey looked away quickly, his jealousy bristling. 

Fuck was wrong with him? It wasn't supposed to be like this. Ian was supposed to just be a warm fucking mouth to him; someone to get him off. Why was it any of his business who the fuck Ian danced with, or fucked, or sucked? It wasn't.

Still, he found himself calling for another shot, wanting desperately to take the edge off. 

"Well, if you're waiting for Ian, looks like he has other plans," Ethan said. 

Mickey looked back to find Ian leading the guy towards the private rooms. He watched shell-shocked and hurt, despite his best attempts to not give a flying shit. Without realizing it, he stood up abruptly and pushed his way through the crowd, stopping Ian and the guy right before they could disappear into the private room.

"Ay."

Ian stopped and looked back at Mickey, his face dropping. "Shit, Mickey. What the hell are you doing here?"

Mickey rocked in place for a few seconds, refusing to look at the stranger who had his arm draped around Ian's shoulders. He reached up and thumbed at his lower lip. 

Ian kept his eyes on Mickey as he turned to the other guy. "Hey, why don't you go wait at the bar for me? I'll come find you in a couple minutes."

The guy looked perturbed and threw Mickey a disgruntled look as he walked away. 

Ian's eyes settled on Mickey. "What's going on, Mick?"

"Really?" Mickey asked, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. "That guy?"

Ian's shoulders slumped and he sighed. "I'm just doing my job, Mickey. My job is to dance with other guys, satisfy other guys. It's what I do with you. It's what I—"

"Alright, just shut the fuck up," Mickey snapped. "I know what your fucking job is, alright?"

Ian watched as Mickey paced. "What's going on here?" he asked, already knowing but wanting confirmation. "Christ, Mickey, you don't have feelings for me, do you?"

"Fuck off," Mickey spat irritably. 

"Because you know that's not smart, right?" Ian continued. "You know this is just sex. It's all it can be. It's all it's _supposed_ to be."

"I don't fucking have feelings for you. Don't flatter yourself, asshole," Mickey said flatly, throwing up all his defenses. 

"So then, what's the problem?" 

Mickey stared back at Ian, realizing just how blasé Ian was being about everything. He suddenly felt foolish and knew he had to do something about it quick before it got even more out of control. His ego was being badly bruised and he had to fix it. "Forget it. You go do you, and I'll go do me."

"What's that even mean?" Ian called out as Mickey turned and went back out towards the dance floor. He sighed and swiped a hand down his face before following, intent on finding the other guy at the bar who had promised him a nice bonus for services rendered. 

As Ian was making his way to the bar, he froze in his step when he spotted Mickey talking to Ethan at the far end.

"Hey," Mickey said breathlessly when he reached Ethan. "Wanna fuck?"

Ethan turned fully to Mickey, smirking as he leaned back against the bar. "Why? Ian busy?"

"Fuck Ian," Mickey said, intent on getting the stupid fucking redhead out of his system so that he could go back to his regular fuck-and-flee deal. "You in?"

Ethan just grinned and then nodded back towards the private rooms. The pair were cut off in their trek, however, when Ian stood in their way, his jaw stiff and his intense green eyes locked on Mickey's. 

"Can I fucking help you?" Mickey asked sharply. 

"You kidding me right now? You're going to go fuck _him_ , of all people."

"What?" Mickey asked, throwing an arm around Ethan's slim shoulders. "Ethan here is just doing his job." 

Ethan stared back and forth between the pair. "Look, unless this is going to turn into a threesome, I really don't wanna be in the middle here."

"Shut the fuck up," Mickey said, his eyes still locked on Ian's. 

"You're really going to fuck him?" Ian asked, sounding hurt.

"You're really going to fuck with that ass clown?" Mickey asked, nodding towards the guy still waiting impatiently at the bar.

"It's my job."

"And I'm not your fucking boyfriend," Mickey said flatly. "I can fuck whoever I want." 

"Oh, okay," Ethan said, removing Mickey's arm from around his shoulders and stepping away. "Sorry, Mickey. Ian's a friend and I don't want to be a part of whatever fucked up shit this is. Go find another dick to piss Ian off with, 'cause it ain't gonna be mine." He waved his hand limply before spinning around and sashaying back into the crowd. 

Ian and Mickey stood facing each other, staring each other down, neither one acknowledging Ethan's departure. 

Without a word, Ian scoffed, turned and headed back towards the private rooms, Mickey hot on his trail.

Once they were inside the small room, Ian shut the door and spun around to face Mickey. "Alright, what the fuck's going on here?" 

"Nothing," Mickey said curtly with a shrug before crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

"So, you were really just about to go fuck Ethan?"

"Yeah. What the fuck is it to you?" 

Ian stared back at him before turning around, running a hand through his hair. After a long pause, he said, "I didn't fucking like it," he mumbled. He then turned around to eye Mickey, seeing him loosen up a little. "I didn't like it, and that's really fucking stupid of me because I shouldn't give two shits about who you fuck." 

"You think I liked watching you come back here with some fucking guy?" Mickey said before he could stop himself. "I wanted to rip his arm off and fucking beat him with it." 

"Mickey, we can't do this. It's not supposed to be like this. It was only supposed to be fucking, nothing else."

"You don't think I fucking know that? You think I like thinking about you all the time? You think I like getting sick over the thought of some random asshole's hands all over you every goddamn night? You think I like handing you money after we fuck; like I'm paying for fucking groceries instead of the best fuck of my life?"

Ian cocked a smile and hung his head. 

Mickey walked closer to him and hooked a finger under his chin, lifting his face. 

The whole no kissing thing had been a rule Mickey had set very early on in their deal, and he had been really adamant about it. Kissing was too intimate, made things too messy, complicated shit. Right now, though, he didn't fucking care about the rules.

He leaned in and touched his lips softly to Ian's. The kiss was quick and dry, just a brushing of lips. He pulled away to find that Ian's eyes were still closed. 

"I'm into you, Gallagher." 

Ian slowly opened his eyes and then placed his hands on Mickey's chest. He slowly ran his hands up and around Mickey's neck and then pressed against him. 

"I've been into you since that first fucking night you came up to me, I was just scared of someone from the old neighborhood knowing about me; so I tried to get you to back off, but somehow you managed to crawl your way under my fucking skin." His words were soft, his breath warm as it fluttered over Ian's face. 

"So, what're we going to do here?" 

Mickey swallowed hard as he stared back into those incredible green eyes. "Fuck if I know."

"Well, I'm not quitting my job," Ian said sternly. "The money is too good and I can't pass that up."

"Fuck, I know," Mickey said. "I wouldn't ask you to quit your job. You're way too fucking good at it," he finished with a grumble. 

"So, you wanna be boyfriends or something?"

"Shit no," Mickey said immediately. "I don't do boyfriends." 

"So you wanna just keep doing what we've been doing?"

"No," Mickey said dumbly. "I don't want that either."

"Help me out here, Mickey," Ian said with a teasing smirk. 

"I just," Mickey began, his eyes falling to Ian's lips. "Fuck. I want you…all of you…every fucking annoying, irritating part of you." 

Ian leaned in and pressed his lips against Mickey's for the second time. This time, they opened their mouths to each other and touched tongues; the kiss slow, tentative and sweet.

When they pulled apart, Mickey leaned his forehead against Ian's. "Okay," he said, his voice rough. "Maybe we can try out the whole fucking boyfriends thing, if it'll make you happy." 

Ian grinned. 

"But there are rules," Mickey added quickly. "No fucking other dudes. I don't care what else you do, I don't wanna ever fucking hear about what else you do, I just don't want your dick in anyone else, got it?" 

Ian knew it would be a hit to his bank account, but he was willing to comply. "What else?" 

"No kissing anyone else but me." 

Ian leaned in and kissed him softly to agree. "I think I can manage that. Anything else?" 

"Yeah," Mickey said, running his hand down Ian's abdomen and then cupping his brand new boyfriend through his shorts. "We have to fuck now to cement the deal." 

"You drive a hard bargain," Ian said with a grin as he reached down to begin undoing Mickey's pants. "Since you're saving some money tonight, maybe take me out to dinner tomorrow night?"

"Just fuck me first and I'll think about it." 

Ian grinned and reached his hand inside Mickey's pants to palm him, intent on closing the deal once or twice over. 

Mickey leaned in and kissed him again.


	3. He's Got Me

The first time Mickey invited Ian to spend the night at his apartment, he remembered how fucking irrationally nervous he had been. Even though Ian had officially been his boyfriend by that point, Ian had never stepped foot inside his small, dingy one bedroom shithole. 

All of their sexual encounters had taken place in those small, musky-smelling, red velvet private rooms at the Fairy Tail, and Mickey had decided it was finally time for a change, now that they were official. 

Mickey had scrubbed his place down from floor to ceiling, bought new dishes to replace his chipped ones, had even bought some of those fancy fucking girly candles to make the place smell halfway decent, like lilacs and shit.

In the end though, none of it had even mattered, because as soon as he had opened the door, Ian hadn't even bothered looking around the place. He had gripped Mickey by the shirt, crushed their lips together, and they had fumbled into the newly spotless bedroom and fucked three times in a row on the brand new sheets.

Almost five months later, Ian was at the apartment almost every night of the week, coming over in the wee hours of the morning after his shifts, usually waking Mickey up from his deep slumber to blow him or passionately make love to him as the sun came up. 

It was one of those nights. Mickey had fallen asleep on the couch while watching an old episode of SVU (one of his many guilty pleasures that Ian had learned in time). He was woken up by a warm mouth on his cock. He groaned sleepily and reached down to card his fingers through Ian's hair; which was getting a little long, but Mickey fucking loved it that way. 

"What time is it?" Mickey grumbled sleepily. 

"Almost four," Ian muttered hotly around the head of Mickey's cock.

Mickey moaned and tried to remember where he was getting at with this. "You're just getting in now?"

Ian lifted his head with a smack of his lips and smirked up at his sleepy-eyed boyfriend. "Seriously? I'm in the middle of blowing you, and you wanna know what time it is? You usually can't even remember your middle name by now." He then dipped his head and swirled his tongue around the tip before engulfing Mickey again.

Mickey bit his lip and allowed his head to fall back against the couch pillow as Ian went back to work with that amazing mouth. He closed his eyes and tried to get lost in it, but that recently-developed, ever-present, nagging twist in his gut kept him from fully enjoying it.

Truth be told, the fact that Ian was still working at the club, dancing for (and on) other guys, was starting to get to him more than he wanted it to. One of their conditions when they first became official was that Ian could still work at the club, as long as he didn't fuck or kiss anyone else, and as long as he came back to Mickey afterwards.

It had been easy to work around at first. Sure, he didn't like the thought of Ian working at the Fairy Tail, but he had learned to deal with it. They had settled into a routine that had been fairly easy for both of them, and they had a don't-ask-don't-tell thing going on as far as Ian's job went.

Now, it ate at Mickey. Any time Ian was working and didn't show up at Mickey's apartment until 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning, Mickey found himself worrying and wearing a hole in the carpet as he paced back and forth. As much as he tried to concentrate on anything else, he couldn't help but to think of other guys touching Ian, or even looking at him…or worse. He hated it and he knew it was only going to lead to trouble. 

He knew Ian would never quit the club, the money was too good. He also knew if it came down to it, that Ian would choose the club over him. Sure, things were about as serious as either one of them had ever been in a relationship, but he knew Ian was far from wanting to settle down at only nineteen-years-old. 

He was pulled away from his unsettling thoughts when Ian pulled away, wiping at his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. "Something wrong?"

"What, no," Mickey said breathlessly. "No, keep going."

Ian cocked an eyebrow and then looked down at Mickey's semi-hard dick. "You sure? Don't really seem into it tonight."

Mickey sighed and then pushed himself into a sitting position. He rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand and eyed Ian in all of his sweaty, eyeliner-streaked, glittery glory. He couldn't help but laugh at his boyfriend's appearance. 

"What the fuck am I gonna do with you, huh?" Mickey asked huskily, snaking a hand around the back of Ian's neck and pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. 

Ian moaned through the kiss as he pressed forward, pinning Mickey back down into the couch cushions. They kissed passionately as hands snaked under tank tops, fingertips grazing over scorching skin. 

"I fucking missed you," Ian grumbled when he pulled away to sprinkle warm, open-mouthed kisses along Mickey's jawline, just how Mickey liked it. 

Mickey closed his eyes and angled his head to give Ian better access. "Move in with me," he blurted into the darkness and he felt Ian still under his hands. 

Ian pulled back after a few heartbeats and stared down at Mickey, the moonlight filtering in from the sliding glass doors illuminating his shocked expression. "What?"

"You heard me," Mickey said, his voice raspy. "Move in with me, you're here every night, anyway. Your shit's all here. Why the fuck not?"

Ian pulled completely away from Mickey and sat back against the other end of the couch, running a hand through his disheveled hair. 

Mickey slowly pushed himself up as well as he eyed Ian wearily, wondering if he had just inserted his foot into his goddamn mouth. 

"It's a big step," Ian said, his eyes focused on the coffee table and definitely _not_ at Mickey. "A fucking huge step."

"I know." 

"We've only been together for five months." 

"Yeah," Mickey quipped with arched eyebrows. 

"It's a lot to think about."

"You don't have to fucking act so weird about it, Jesus," Mickey spat. "Just forget I said anything."

Mickey's suddenly bruised ego was starting to get the best of him. For a second there, he had been expecting Ian to say yes with no hesitation. After all, Ian was there every night, anyway; his shit was littered all over the place, he certainly had an affinity for eating all of Mickey's fucking food. He thought it would've been a no-brainer. Now he was seriously kicking himself in the ass. 

He stood up and headed towards the kitchen grumpily. 

"Don't get mad," Ian said as he stood up to follow. "I just need some time to think about it, that's all."

"Yeah, okay," Mickey said as he grabbed a bottled water from the fridge. He opened it and took a swig, nearly choking on it when he heard the next words out of Ian's mouth. 

"I slept with someone."

Mickey could feel the blood draining from his face and his heart thumping in his throat as Ian's words registered, hurting him far more than he thought they would. 

Slowly, he turned to face Ian, hating the look of anguish on Ian's face, because he didn't have the right to feel that. "What the fuck did you say?"

Ian sighed and slid to sit on a stool at the island counter. He ran a hand down his face. "I want to be honest with you, before we take anything further." When Mickey only glared, remaining silent, Ian continued. "It was only one time, with one guy, a few weeks ago. He kept buying me drinks, I got pretty drunk, and he offered me five hundred dollars to—"

"Okay, just shut the fuck up," Mickey said, his hurt easily giving way to anger. 

"It wasn't even that big of a deal," Ian continued hurriedly. "I wore a condom and it was over in two minutes. It was easy money."

"Oh, well, that makes it fucking better! Glad he was able to make you come so fast!"

"Mick…" 

"I don't want to fucking talk about this anymore."

"Look, my sister needed help with a few bills and—"

"And you thought it was okay to go fuck someone else?"

"It didn't mean anything."

"It fucking means something to me!" Mickey yelled, slapping his palm hard on the counter, startling Ian. "I told you I didn't want you fucking anyone else. It was one of my only rules. I was okay with you working at that shithole, as long as you didn't do that!"

"Hey, relax," Ian said, slipping off the stool to walk to the brunet, but he got a hand to his chest, stopping him.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Mickey warned. 

Ian stared back at Mickey, his lips parted slightly. 

"Just get out," Mickey said, realizing that it hurt to even look at him. 

"Mickey, come the fuck on." 

"Get the fuck out! Take your shit with you." 

"Five mintutes ago you were asking me to move in with you, now you want me to go? Just like that? We can't even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to fucking talk about," Mickey snipped. "We're done."

"We're not done."

"The fuck we aren't," Mickey bit back flatly, his eyebrows arching. 

"You can't mean that," Ian said, advancing on him. He grabbed Mickey's arm and tugged Mickey to him. "You don't mean that, Mickey. I know I fucked up, but what we have—"

"We don't have shit," Mickey said, tearing his arm from Ian's grasp. "Get out of my apartment." He brushed roughly past Ian and walked to the door, opening it. 

"Mickey, just tell me what to do to fix this."

Mickey glared at him. "If I told you—right here and now—to choose between me and working at that fucking club, what would you choose?"

Ian only hesitated for a second. "I need that job, Mickey, it's good money. It's—"

"Just like I fucking thought," Mickey said, cutting him off. "Get out."

Ian opened his mouth a few times, wanting to say something to rectify the situation, but unable to come up with the words. He walked to grab his jacket from beside the couch and then walked towards the door. 

Mickey refused to even look at him, even though Ian crowded his personal space. 

"You told me you wouldn't make me choose."

"Yeah, and you told me you wouldn't fuck anyone else. Guess we both lied." 

Ian stood for a few seconds longer, waiting, and then brushed past Mickey to leave.

~~~

Mickey had been intent on falling back into his old routine. He was intent on cleansing his apartment of all things Ian Gallagher and moving on with his fucking life. He had lived just fine without Ian Gallagher for twenty-one years before. It wasn't going to be hard.

Nine days later, he was lying piss-drunk on the couch, two-day old pizza laying on his coffee table, and he was pretty sure that foul fucking smell was him. Or maybe it was the pizza. Probably both. 

He heard keys jiggling in the doorknob and lifted his heavy head with much effort, looking in the direction of his unwelcomed visitor through hooded eyes.

"Fuck's there?"

"It's me, shithead."

Mickey groaned at his sister's voice and buried his face back into the cushions. "Go the fuck ’way," he grumbled. 

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? Mickey, you're pathetic. Look at this mess, look at you! When was the last time you took a fucking shower. You reek!"

Mickey muttered obscenities under his breath as he struggled to stand, only to stagger his way to the kitchen to grab another beer from the fridge. 

Mandy followed him, crossing her arms and giving him her best disapproving, disgruntled sister look. "You're a fucking mess, dude."

"And you're a fucking bitch. What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?" Mickey groused. "Why do you still have that key? I thought I told you to give me that shit back months ago."

"You haven't been answering your phone."

"'Cause I don't wanna fucking talk to anybody, ever think of that?"

"Have you been going to work?" Mandy asked, ignoring her brother's nonsensical chatter. 

"Fuck yeah, been t’ work. Have _you_ been t’ work?" Mickey stammered as he took a quick swig of his beer. 

"What's going on with you?" Mandy asked, suddenly turning soft. "Where's Ian? Did you two break up?" 

"Fuck Ian," Mickey muttered around the mouth of his bottle as he clumsily made his way back to the couch and plopped down, spilling beer down the front of his shirt. He stared down at the wet mess on his chest, his face twisted in a scowl, looking as if he had no idea what had just happened to him.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Mandy said, rolling her eyes and settling down next to him. "Talk to me."

"Fuck off."

"Okay, I'll go talk to Ian then, get _his_ side of the story."

"Hey, whose side are you s’posed to be on here?" 

Mandy smirked. "I'm on your side, dumbass." 

Mickey sighed and rested his head back against the couch. "Asshole cheated on me," he finally said after a long pause, his voice suddenly much softer even though he still slurred. 

"Well, he works at a gay bar as a dancer slash sometimes prostitute. What the fuck did you expect?"

"He told me he wouldn't sleep with anyone else. It was one of our rules." 

"Well, how did you find out about it?"

"He told me."

"At least he was honest, that's a good thing."

"So that should make it okay?" Mickey asked, his tone suddenly hard again. "The fucker approached _me_ , he tricked _me_ , he got me to let down my fucking guard and I fucking fell for the dickhead. This is what I get? Fuck him!" 

When Mandy didn't respond, Mickey looked over at her with raised eyebrows to find her smiling.

"Fuck you smiling about?"

"You're in love with him."

"Fuck off."

"You are! You just said it. You're in love with Ian. He totally snagged you!" 

"You don't know what the fuck you're talkin’ about." 

"Oh, but I think I do."

Mickey sat forward with a resigned sigh, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands, knowing there was no use in denying it. His sister could read him like an open fucking book, which was annoying as shit. 

"It was only supposed to be an occasional fuck, a quick way to get off a couple nights a week," he said tiredly as he rubbed at his eye. "It wasn't supposed to be like this." 

"Mickey, as your incredibly intelligent, far wiser younger sister, I think you should go see him. Give him another chance."

"Fuck that." 

"You've been happier these past few months than I've ever seen you! You smile like the fucking Cheshire Cat when he's around, you practically giggle at his fucking jokes. It's disgusting. You're really going to let one fuck up ruin all that?" 

"He's the one who ruined it," Mickey said stubbornly.

Mandy smirked. "Milkoviches rarely ever get the chance to be happy, Mickey. So I think it would be pretty fucking sad if you didn't let yourself be happy because of one fuck up. He fucked up. We _all_ fuck up."

"He's never going to choose me over that fucking club." 

"So then you're just going to have to choose him over the club."

Mickey finally glanced at her over his shoulder, finally letting out a laugh. "I don't know if it's because I'm three sheets to the fucking wind right now or what, but that actually kinda made fucking sense."

Mandy grabbed his head and pulled him towards her, planting a kiss into his hair before standing up. "Quit being a pussy. Go get your man." She walked to the door and opened it, but not before turning back to say one last thing. "Just make it clear that this is his only fuck up. One more time, kick his hot ass to the curb." 

Mickey lifted his beer bottle to her in salute and then he was alone again. He looked around his messy apartment and then smelled an armpit. "I fucking reek," he muttered before standing up and staggering to the bathroom.

~

Ian rolled and swayed with the music, his heart and head not exactly in it; but there were guys to tease, money to be made, and an electric bill that needed paid.

For the past nine days, everything he did was half-hearted; from his dancing, to his morning jogs, even brushing his teeth seemed to take up more energy than it was worth nowadays. He was just going through the motions.

He fucking missed Mickey. 

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get Mickey out of his head. He had even tried fucking him out of his system, but no matter who he had under him, they were all Mickey. 

He didn't know how it had ended up this way. He had initially pursued Mickey because he wanted to fuck him a couple times and then move on, like he did most every other guy he screwed. 

But Mickey had been different and Ian had fallen hard. So hard, in fact, that he had jumped at the chance to be Mickey's boyfriend, which was something he just didn't do. 

And things had been perfect for five whole months. He went to work, made money, and then went back to Mickey's place; where they cooked together, laughed, did laundry, made love in the newly washed sheets. He had never been happy like that before. Even though he hadn't expected any of it, hadn't expected Mickey, he realized it was all he had ever wanted.

And he had fucked it all up like he did most everything else in his pathetic life. 

Now, after being with Mickey and then losing him, he felt even more empty and alone as he ever had before as he danced in front of dozens of strangers who only wanted what was in his shorts.

They didn't want him like Mickey did. 

They didn't want to rub his back whenever he was bent over the toilet after a bad hangover; they didn't want to run their fingers through his hair after a bad day until he fell asleep; they didn't want to make sure he took his pills on time every day.

After the song ended, he hopped off stage and pushed his way through the crowd and stopped at the bar, ordering his usual apple martini. When he got his drink, he turned around to survey the crowd and was suddenly pressed back against the bar. 

"Hey." 

"Hey," Ian said to the blond in front of him.

"You're hot."

"I know," Ian shot back coolly. 

"I was looking for a private dance." 

The guy was far from ugly, maybe a little too tan, and Ian knew he could make an easy hundred out of him, but he found himself saying, "I'm on a break."

"What would it cost for you to ditch your break and come have some fun with me?" The guy was brave and trailed a finger down Ian's abs, teasingly stopping just short of the top of his shorts. "I can do all the work if you want. That a break enough for you?"

Ian opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes averted over the guy's shoulder and he froze when he caught sight of Mickey standing a few yards away, the crowd shifting around him as he stared back at Ian. 

"I'm not interested," Ian said distractedly as he brushed past the guy and headed towards Mickey. Just as he thought he would, Mickey was already turning and heading in the opposite direction. Ian maneuvered his way through the throng of people before finally finding Mickey at the second, smaller bar in the back corner. 

"Hey," he said breathlessly once he reached him.

"The fuck do you want?" Mickey asked as he tried to gain the bartender's attention. "From the looks of it, you were getting pretty hot and heavy with fucking Ken doll back there." 

Ian smirked. "For your information, he came up to me and I turned him down." 

"You turning someone down?" Mickey retorted. "That's a fucking first." 

Ian's eyes narrowed. "What're you even doing here, anyway?" 

"I was bored," Mickey said, his voice stiff as his eyes left Ian to scan the crowd. "Came to get my dick sucked. Don't see anyone worth asking yet, though." 

Ian's shoulders slumped as disappointment coursed through him. He was then suddenly angry. "You had to come here, of all places, to get your dick sucked? You couldn't go to the three other queer bars on the block?" 

"I could've, but I hear the guys here are cheap and easy," Mickey said dryly, looking at him pointedly. "Heard the actual fucking could use some work though, but I'll work with what I can get."

"Oh, fuck you, Mickey," Ian spat before turning around to walk away, refusing to let Mickey see that he was hurt. Once he was lost in the crowd again, he felt a hand on his arm, tugging him backwards. He was intent on spinning around to tell whoever it was to back the fuck off, but he froze when he felt a familiar body pressing against his back. 

"Dance with me?" Mickey rasped against Ian's ear as he held Ian back against him with an arm around his chest. 

Ian's breath hitched as Mickey's other arm snaked around his waist and down over his abs, his hand resting flat on Ian's belly right above his shorts.

"Or do I gotta pay for that?" 

"Fuck you," Ian spat, even though his heart was pumping vibrantly in his chest and he felt his cock stir in his shorts. 

Mickey motioned for Ian to turn around and then he placed his hands on Ian's hips once they were face to face, pulling him closer. His blue eyes were suddenly soft, the hard edges gone from his expression. 

"Missed ya."

It took a moment to sink in, but when it did, Ian leaned in and pressed his forehead to Mickey's, letting out an unsteady sigh. They were standing still amidst the jumping, swaying crowd, and they probably looked like absolute assholes, but neither cared at the moment.

"Missed you too."

"You fucked up, big time." 

"I know."

"Don't do it again. I fucking mean it."

"I won't." 

Mickey leaned up and pressed their lips together, his hand grabbing the back of Ian's head and curling his fingers through his hair.

"Get a fucking room!" Ethan sassed playfully as he sauntered past, causing the pair to pull apart reluctantly; Ian grinning and Mickey glaring. 

"So," Mickey said after his irritation passed, still holding firmly onto Ian's hips, pressing their erections together. "You wanna head back to a room, maybe have some makeup sex?" 

"No," Ian replied breathlessly. On Mickey's frown, he finished. "I wanna go back to your place." 

"My place, huh?" 

"Or…our place?" 

"Huh?" Mickey asked, looking completely astounded.

"I wanna move in with you," Ian said, deciding to just go all in. "I wanna wake up with you in the morning, and make awful fucking pancakes, and fuck a half dozen times a day in every position possible…and I wanna do laundry with you, and watch trashy soaps with you, and fight with you about stupid shit that doesn't even matter. I want you, Mickey." 

"I can't, Ian," Mickey said, his voice dipping. "I can't do it. I can't have you coming here every night, not knowing what the fuck's going on, and I can't ask you to stop. I won't be that guy." 

"You won't be that guy, Mickey," Ian interrupted, "because I'm choosing to stop." 

"Ian, you can't, man. You need this job." 

"There's other jobs out there."

"None that pay nearly as good." 

"Well, I'll figure that out."

"But what—"

"Don't fucking argue with me, asshole," Ian said, cutting him off and grinning. 

"Fuck you."

"See, this…this is what I want." 

Mickey arched an eyebrow in contemplation. "You'd really leave this shithole, just like that? You love dancing. You're in your fucking element when you dance. And you need the money." 

"Yeah, well, I need you more." 

Mickey stared back at Ian, going still beneath Ian's fingers. He visibly swallowed and didn't say anything for a long time. "How can I fucking say no to that?" he finally said. 

"You don't," Ian grumbled as he leaned in for another kiss. 

Mickey moaned into Ian's mouth and then pulled away, pressing their foreheads together and panting into the space that separated them. "Let's get the fuck outta here, so we can go home and you can fuck me sideways, huh." 

"Hm, we never tried it like that before." Ian smiled as he flung his arm around Mickey's shoulders and they headed back towards the employee locker room to gather his belongings.

"Told you I'd get you," Ian said with a teasing smile.

"Yeah," Mickey grumbled, "you got me, asshole." He then reached down to squeeze Ian's ass, feeling pretty damn proud himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this story started as a one-parter and turned into this. Thanks to everyone for reading! I hope you like it, I wrote it in the middle of the night while tired, so hope it's okay! Also, the ending may be a little cheesy, but, let's face it, this fandom can use a little happiness/cheesiness right about now! I may add a fourth part in the future, we'll see how that goes! Comments and kudos are always nice! :)


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